The train car is usually empty at
9 am. Blue plastic seats line both
lengths of the train. The seats are
cold and rock solid. They
join together to form one
elongated bench.

The car is empty now and I am
the first in this lonely train car.

The second is an elderly Chinese
woman. She enters the car and
sits diagonally from me.
She’s practically hidden behind
her newspaper.

The third is a man suiting a tank
top. He’s tan and his head is
home to several tattoos that wrap
around from his spine. He takes a
seat on the other side of the car.
His eyes face the floor and his
gaze is empty.

Soon, the car is packed with
people. Each occupying their
own, and only their own space.
One person left their earphones
at home and forces everyone
to listen as they scroll through
twitter. Another is on speaker
phone with a family member
who lives far away.

All the action around me drowns
out the man who has just entered
the car. He does a quick prayer
for everyone, though nobody
returns the favor. The paper cup
in his hand shakes, clinking the
lonely coins against each other
in the cup as he limps forward.

Spare change? He calls out.

I dug my hands in my
pockets expecting others to
do the same. I was alone.
And so was he.